Thursday, November 12, 2009

Culling the Culture: Great Balls of Lips

Back in September, I mentioned that the band The Flaming Lips had put out a casting call for naked riders to appear in a music video. Naturally, they sounded this call in Portland, where people sit poised and ready to mobilize the second anybody needs anything ridiculous and cycling-related to be done. As I understand it, it works like this: Let's say, for example, an aging rock band needs to draw attention to itself inexpensively due to both the moribund state of the record industry and its own increasing hoariness. Well, this is easy to do if the band knows four things: 1) Hipsters pay attention to anything having to do with bikes; 2) Nudity always gets attention; 3) People in Portland love to ride bikes; 4) People everywhere will do anything to get attention. So what the rock band then does is notify the cycling authorities in Portland, who in turn sound a giant air raid siren that can be heard for miles on both sides of the Willamette River. Then, everyone reports to a designated area with their bicycles for debriefing. Orders can range from "Ride your bikes around dressed as Michael Jackson," to "Let's help someone move to a new apartment," to "Let's get naked to help The Flaming Lips sell music." (In this case, they were quite literally "de-briefed.") Whatever the cause, these ever-agreeable Portlanders are happy to oblige.

As it happens, a reader informs me that The Flaming Lips have already finished their video, having spent less than two months and virtually no money. (For the cast, humiliation is its own reward.) You can watch it here, but if you find The Flaming Lips's music as tedious as I do then it's my pleasure to summarize it for you instead. First, it opens with a bunch of naked people on bikes:

Then, the singer, Wayne Coyne, appears in a bubble:

Then, we see a Hairy Vagina Ball:

Next, more naked people start to emerge from the Hairy Vagina Ball:

(I suppose The Flaming Lips did have to spend some money on construction of the Hairy Vagina Ball, though even that can be done inexpensively--especially if you send a production assistant out into the cast to collect pubic hair clippings and then apply them to the Vagina Ball with a gluestick. I also regret not having been present to witness the moment when the director raised the bullhorn to his lips and asked the crowd, "OK, who wants to get inside the Hairy Vagina Ball?")

At this point, the "song" begins, though it's mostly just the suggestion of a song, since like the bubble in which Wayne Coyne is housed it never really gets more than a few feet off the ground. Here's what Coyne looks like as he disinterestedly intones the lyrics:

Eventually, the crowd starts passing the bubble around like a giant beach ball:

Finally, they stuff a naked Wayne Coyne into the Hairy Vagina Ball:

Despite my total lack of enthusiasm for The Flaming Lips's music, I have to admit that this is a formidable artistic accomplishment, since they've somehow managed to make even naked people passing into and out of a Hairy Vagina Ball seem hopelessly pedestrian and indeed barely worth watching. I suppose this is because their music is about as exciting as a big bucket of old bongwater, the spilling of which can dampen even the most animated and festive proceedings. I suppose also this is why "Do You Realize??" is now the Official Rock Song of Oklahoma. (Incidentally, I'm currently working on a rock song about burritos which I plan to send to Governor Schwarzenegger for consideration.)

Nonetheless, I can't help but perk up a bit when cycling makes a cameo in popular entertainment, even if that cameo is often awkward and embarrassing. Another reader informs me that the TV show "Castle" recently featured a plot involving a dead bike messenger. I had never seen "Castle" before, having dismissed it as yet another show featuring a main character with a domicile-themed surname à la "House." Actually, I still haven't really seen it, since I only watched the very beginning, in which the messenger dies. If you'd like, you can watch it yourself here, but essentially what happens is that a Nü-Fred stuntman who looks nothing like a bike messenger and who wears his bag on his stomach instead of on his back pulls off as "epic" a piece of bike-salmoning as any I've ever seen:

Then, his Swobo Sanchez plows into a car and he dies, at which point someone comes out of the car and steals his bag:

Who has stolen the bag, and what's in it? Will Castle be able to solve the mystery? Will he team up with House or Shaq or someone else named after a dwelling? Will there be a spin-off called "Hovel?" To find out, you'll either have to watch the show, or else just listen to The Flaming Lips, which will make you forget all about the show since it induces all the apathy of smoking the Wednesday weed but without any of that pesky "insight." ("Entertainment value" is truly a useless by-product.)

Yes, in Copenhagen they're building cargo bike parking while in New York City people will still tell you to "Get on the sidewalk." This is like how, during the Middle Ages, China flourished culturally while Europe was busy inventing new ways to kill people for saying the Earth revolved around the Sun. Frankly, I find reading about bike-friendly cities like Portland and Copenhagen and their ingenious little solutions highly irritating. It's like getting an excited voicemail from your friend who says, "Guess what? I finally figured out where to put all this money!" Yes, people in Copenhagen are so enlightened that, according to the post, only 2% of them are bothered by their own smugness:

Of course, that number might fluctuate if, instead of pink cars, the city started installing Hairy Vagina Balls.

Also according to the post, in Denmark they just don't have cargo bikes; they have cargo bike culture, as you can see in this photo set:

I realize I have a fairly parochial view when it comes to the use of certain words, but nonetheless I maintain that the act of carting crap around in a wagon does not qualify as "culture"--even if you do it while talking on a cellphone and wearing designer clothes. In a sense, the word "culture" is sort of like a human spleen. When healthy, it's useful and important. However, once it becomes diseased, you're better off having it removed, since you can still live without it. The word "culture" became diseased when everyone started attaching it to everything from bicycles to video games. If "culture" were completely eradicated from the English language, we'd miss it, but we'd still be able to function. "European culture" would simply be "European" or "Europe." "Danish cargo bike culture" would simply be "Danish cargo bikes." "Ancient cultures" would just be "ancient peoples." Other organs will take over for the spleen, and other words will take over for "culture." At this point, we're on the cusp of someone actually referring to "culture culture," at which point it will be too late. (Though I suppose this might be somewhat acceptable if you're referring to a primitive rainforest tribe that worships yogurt.)

Meanwhile, as the Danes figure out what to do with their cargo bikes, here in New York City our new bike lanes are being taken from us almost as fast as the DOT can paint them. No sooner did this one appear in Brooklyn than it was appropriated by horseback riders:

This is especially frustrating since there's a perfectly serviceable dirt path right next to the bike lane:

I was tempted to yell "Giddyup!" and thwack it on the rump as I passed, but the only thing that stopped me was that I didn't want to injure the horse. (In retrospect, I now realize I could have done that to the woman in the mustard pants instead.) It could be though that she thinks she's entitled to ride her horse in the bike lane. Maybe she's on her way to Mongolian cyclocross practice.

and to think that just this morning on my ride into work, I inexplicably hollered the word "yogurt" to the traffic driving by... does this then mean that Culture culture is officially open and accepting applications?

Once again, a top notch post. The addition of "culture" just seems to be an excuse to form a group of people who can be marketed to, much like "active lifestyle" (or your "physical culture) is really just a euphemism for "people who exercise".

Wow, I couldn't agree with you more about the Flaming Lips music video. The video is the unfortunate afterbirth of the giant vagina ball. I am all for "rock out with your cock out" and "jam out with your clam out," but that was strangely and thououghly unsatisfying.

There was an AP string in the last week or two about a guy in the Carolinas who must have been in the midst of a long dry spell. He was arrested for buggery. The horse's owner was quoted extensively along the TMI thread.

I think your break last week has enlightened you beyond any stale bongwater or cargo bike ever could. I'm wondering if while away you didn't yourself get stuffed inside 'the hairy vagina ball' only to come out to a new culture.

horses in bike lanes and on paths really are a nuisance. here in portland along an eastern section of the springwater, some people let their horses leave behind "culture" which is nearly impossible to avoid riding through. i suppose i'll buy a bottle of disinfectant to clean my wheelbrows.

That Flaming Lips video is a blatant Zardoz rip off. Wayne Coyne was just dying to reenact the classic scene where Sean Connery uses his caveman strength to rip through the supposedly indestructible plastic wrap around the greenhouse.

Anyone see that episode of "House" in which Mos Def plays a cyclist who crashes due to some crazy neuropathy? Mos Def is great, and bikes are great, but that episode just sucked, especially his incessant voice-over.

If you take a throat culture from the indigenous tribe that worships yogurt, would that create a "culture culture culture?" Is the world finally ending?

Snob seeing that you are on a roll this week may I request a double post on friday like back in the day?

Can i smoke, burn incense, listen to the reggae band culture and get laid while inside the hairy vagina pod?

Few nights ago as soon as I turn on the t.v. I land right at the scene in Natural Born Killers where the cyclist gets bucked by that annoying chick, I need to know what the hell he was riding, help me someone.

From my daily quote generator:"Sometimes people are layered like that. There's something totally different underneath than what's on the surface. But sometimes, there's a third, even deeper level, and that one is the same as the top surface one. Like with pie." - Joss Whedon, Zack Whedon, Maurissa Tancharoen, and Jed Whedron

You could pedal through life with less spleen, and still keep all your organs, by remembering that "culture" has more meanings than a Paris-Roubaix wheel has spokes, and, like the spokes, more than one can be useful--if they keep their integrity.For example, "primary culture" is pretty much everything humans do in their daily lives, while "secondary culture" is what humans do to understand, ennoble, or change the first.I think what rightly ticks you off is when people claim that crap from the first category is in fact art from the second. I'm not sure what category lots of stuff--like indoor plumbing--fits in. So I really enjoy your attempts to draw the line.

One of my favorite bands, the Super Furry Animals were interviewed the other day, see http://www.sport.co.uk/features/Football/738/Sportcouk_meetsSuper_Furry_Animals.aspx --about Cardiff soccer and they happened to mention that they pay a 100 pounds a month to store inflatables that they used as part of a "record" release a few years ago. Makes me wonder what the Hairy Vagina Ball logistics are going to cost the Flaming Lips?

The Copenhagen bike trends don't work for me at all, for the same reason tandems and all that have never made much of an impression on me--I don't do group rides. I mean seriously, if I have to wait around for someone else or take someone on a bike when I go out for a ride, why bother. When I did belong to a "club" they wanted to ride at the most ridiculous times and to the most obnoxious places.

And isn't there a word for some of what the Copenhagen bikes do to you--change you into a coolie. Forget it.

Hey BS, The song you plan to write about Californian burritos may be redundant. "I heard the burritos out in California can fly..." is the first line of David Allan Coe's "Willie, Waylon and Me." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzcLcUjIPcQ

let me just say, i appreciate your propensity for criticism. your witty form of contraband has even blown a few eye opening shots off my own bow. something about sleeves and health care. and while i think you provide a service that most of us egoists would rarely undertake on our own, i must say, the lips do not deserve such a shallow portrayal. study them a bit, use your honestly honed ability to identify characteristics of our modern "culture," and i think you may find yourself in-cahoots with those vagina ball lunatics. they have gotten a lot of people off their... well, smugness.

i consider myself a skeptic, but i'm an optimist at soul. and i feel that you are too.

The thing that bothers me the most about that video is the wretched sound quality. Is that some kind of intentional attempt at coolness, a terrible accident in somewhere in the intertubes, or just incompetence? Whatever the reason, it's pitiful. Just because Jimi could pull it off, that doesn't mean everyone should try it.

Are any other smug Oregonians a little disappointed that there aren't any naked minorities in the video? What does this say about the state of exclusivity within the progressive movements? Does Wayne Coyne unaware of his distrust of 'the other' - or is this represented by the clear ball he walks around in?

The 'DV' culture is endemic, perhaps even pan-endemic. And, as such, this gal is troubled by the backstory of the movement.

The No.1 reason for undergoing labia streamlining is given as "pain caused whilst cycling". Considering genital curation I'm amazed that more men of the peloton don't follow Harmstrong's surgical lead to ease those saddle miles.

You have finally proven with this unfunny and petty little diatribe what a self=serving, bitter little creature you are. Jealousy is written all over your post. People like you spend their lives wishing you had the nads to get naked and appear in a rock video. -5 stars. Did I mention you suck? Do you need help with that albatross around your pencil-neck, or with finding your feet and tying your shoes? Sorry, they're probably velcro.

Oh yeah...just when I forgot why I hate smug, holier than thou New Yorkers, I find your post (never mind that it's almost 2 years old). Let me guess, you live in Brooklyn? Williamsburg even? Big surprise there. Go drink some PBR and complain some more, fuckhead. The rest of us are going to have fun with our horses, vagina balls, and yes, cargo bikes...

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About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!